That Fateful Day

The tiny room seemed to shrink further under the heavy veil of night, throwing shadows over the walls like the ghosts of the dark. Within that small confine, five-year-old Darcy lay curled, her tiny figure in the huge bed, clutching her blanket as though it could protect her against the eerie silence that wrapped the air. 

Outside, the rain roared heavily, each drop casting a mournful note in the symphony of the night. Darcy's gaze fixed upon the window, watching as the raindrops cascaded down in a rhythm, leaving short and temporary trails. 

She hurriedly got out of her bed, her small feet padding softly against the cold floorboards. There was a sense of urgency in her movements, she made her way through the dimly lit hallway, her heart thrumming with anticipation. 

Arriving at her destination, she stood before the door that separated her from her mother, Gracy.